


Fragmented

by papesdontsellthemselves



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Parent AU, al and race are dads in this!, car crashes, dad fic, poor al, pretty descriptive injury, yeehae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 01:31:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18488515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papesdontsellthemselves/pseuds/papesdontsellthemselves
Summary: Metal against metal was a sound that Race had always hated.  Like nails on a chalkboard, it sent shivers down his spine, spreading tingles through his body all the way to his jaw.  Even worse, was the immense whiplash that accompanied the horrid sound as an ugly fuschia pickup truck skidded into the side of Albert’s green RAV4.  His immediate thought was, ‘my neck definitely should not have been moved like that,’ followed soon after by, ‘oh my god, the kids are in the car’.





	Fragmented

**Author's Note:**

> TW: car crashes, descriptions of injury, mentions of past death, vomit

Metal against metal was a sound that Race had always hated. Like nails on a chalkboard, it sent shivers down his spine, spreading tingles through his body all the way to his jaw. Even worse, was the immense whiplash that accompanied the horrid sound as an ugly fuschia pickup truck skidded into the side of Albert’s green RAV4. His immediate thought was, ‘my neck definitely should not have been moved like that,’ followed soon after by, ‘oh my god, the kids are in the car’. 

As the two cars flew into the median, coming to a faulty stop, Race allowed himself one moment to gather himself, checking if he had any other injuries besides his neck, which in and of itself, could have been worse. He discovered a couple scrapes on his arms from discarded glass produced by the shattered windows, but nothing life threatening.

Running a shaky hand through his hair, he turned towards Albert, who was hunched against the window, holding his forehead. Blood was seeping between his fingers and Race’s eyes traveled from his apparent head injury to the driver’s side window, where a web of cracks could be seen expanding out from a hole, where presumably, Albert’s head had hit. 

The sound of wailing from the backseat brought Race back to his senses and he turned around to see his daughter, Emelia, crying in her booster seat. She looked relatively unscathed, if not completely scarred for life and Race quickly unbuckled, scrambling into the back to comfort her. But he paled considerably when he saw his son, who had been napping on the car ride home from the grocery store, leaning to the side at a painful angle. His leg was trapped between the indented door and the passenger’s seat, blood pooling onto the car floor under it. A fleeting thought of him being the next Crutchie passed through Race’s mind, but he disregarded it quickly in order to assess Andrew’s other injuries. He was passed out, no doubt a result of the gash on his temple, which also seemed to bloom from the place where the pickup truck was wedged into their car. 

He lunged forward, desperately feeling for a pulse, almost screaming in relief when he found one. It was undoubtedly dangerous to try and move him right now, but he wanted more than anything to pull his son out and hold him close. A knocking at Emelia’s window broke his focus and he looked around to see paramedics, waiting outside with a stretcher and other medical gear. He hadn’t even noticed the police had gotten there, not that he was complaining. In his haste, he’d forgotten the prospect of calling for help. He scrambled to unlocked the door, unbuckling Emelia simultaneously and scooping her up as he climbed out of the car.

“My son,” He addressed the nearest paramedic immediately, “Please, he’s-”

“We see him, sir,” The paramedic said, “We are going to help him right away.”

Race glanced back at Andrew’s seemingly lifeless form and almost threw up, holding the still crying Emelia closer to his chest, guarding her from the view of her twin brother.

A moment later, Albert stumbled out of the driver’s side, promptly collapsing onto the grass and vomiting, making Emelia scream louder. 

“Shhh, shh, baby,” Race cooed, trying to comfort his daughter, although he, too, was scared half to death, “Daddy’s okay, everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Is-is,” Emelia gasped out, “Is Andrew dead?”

Race’s heart broke, “No, baby, Andrew isn’t dead. He’s a little banged up, but he’s gonna be alright.” he said, trying to convince himself as well of this fact.

Emelia sniffed, burrowing herself into the crook of Race’s neck as she continued to sob. One of the paramedics had bent down to check on Albert, who brushed him off, wiping his mouth as he stood up. His eyes were unfocused, swimming with determination and a certain kind of panic that Race couldn’t place.

Albert’s eyes scanned from Race, to Emelia eyes narrowing, “Where’s Andrew?” he demanded.

“In the car, sweetheart,” Race said, stepping closer to him, “He was a little stuck, but-”

Albert didn’t wait for Race to finish as he pushed past him, bolting around to Andrew’s door. A tow truck had effectively moved the pickup truck away from their car, and paramedics, as well as a few policemen, were working on getting Andrew out of the car.

Race followed his husband to find him trying to push through the crowd of officials, who now had Andrew on a stretcher in the grass. One policeman was negotiating with Albert, but he wasn’t hearing it.

“That’s my fucking son,” Albert seethed, eyes wild, “Let me the fuck through, I need to see my son!”

“Sir, he is in good hands, I assure you, but you need to let us-”

“I don’t fucking care if he’s in the hands of Jesus, I will see my son now!” He shouted, trying to push through the officer, only to be held back by a firm hand on his bicep. He flinched, shaking it off and reeling back a few steps.

“They are trying to get him stable right now, sir, you need to let them do their jobs.”

Albert shook his head frantically, anger flashing in his eyes, “You-you don’t understand. That’s my son, I-“

“I do understand,” The officer tried, “You need to let them-”

“No, no, no,” Albert said, trying to step forward again, “I need to see him, I can’t- I just- let me see him!” He was gripping his hair tightly at this point, pulling hard. 

“Albert, baby,” Race stepped between Albert and the officer, trying to make eye contact, but Albert was looking over Race’s shoulder, “Albert, look at me.”

Albert finally flicked his eyes to Race’s, showing for the first time the clear, unveiled panic in his expression.

“He’s okay,” Race assured, “They’re working on him, he’s gonna be okay.”

They broke eye contact as a paramedic walked up to them, “Your son is stable, but we need to get him to a hospital. His leg needs surgery and he’s showing possible signs of brain damage.”

Albert let out a small whimper, before bending over and throwing up again, Emelia’s cries ringing out once more. Race felt his stomach drop at the words, but willed his mind to cooperate as he spoke, “Thanks, uh, thank you,” he managed, “Can we, uh, ride with you in the ambulance?”

 

“You’re his immediate family?”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then, yes, you may come.”

Race led Albert to the ambulance, whispering comforting nothings to Emelia as he did so. Race felt tears prick at his eyes as he took in Andrew, still passed out on the stretcher, his now clean leg propped up. The break in the bone was obvious and Race set Emelia down on the bench, kneeling in front of her to distract her from the sight of her brother. Albert sat down numbly next to them, placing his head in his hands. He was vibrating, his leg bouncing erratically and Race couldn’t help the worry that clawed at his mind. Albert was usually calm and collected during times of disaster, always looking for the logical way of handling the situation. He almost never showed what he was truly thinking during distressing times and most certainly let his fear go unmasked as he was doing right now. He tried to place a comforting hand on his husband’s bouncing knee, but retracted it quickly when Albert jumped, scooting away from him with wide eyes.

“Al, hey,” Race started, but Albert shook his head, placing it back in his hands after briefly looking at Andrew. 

Emelia was hiccuping loudly now and Race traced comforting circles on her hands, humming an Italian lullaby until they got to the hospital. As soon as the door opened, and paramedics began to pull Andrew out of the back, Albert was alert again. He tried to follow them and Race had to rush to keep up with him. They burst through the automatic doors of the hospital and Andrew was instantly taken to the operation room.

Albert tried to follow, but Race stepped in front of him. Albert placed his hands on Race’s chest, preparing to shove him out of the way, but Race was quicker. He grabbed onto his husband’s wrists, feeling the pulse underneath.

“Let me go,” Albert snapped, struggling against his grip, “Race, let me the fuck go.”

“Not until I’m certain you won’t bolt,” Race said firmly, “I need you to calm down, Albert. Freaking out is not helping Andrew or Emelia’s case right now.” 

He momentarily looked over Albert’s shoulder to see a nurse, sitting with Emelia in one of the waiting chairs, trying to calm her down. He took a deep breath to steady himself and turned his attention back to Albert, who was furiously trying to break free of his grasp once more.

“Race, please, Race,” Albert begged, his angry voice giving way to a sob that made Race’s stomach clench, “Elijah’s hurt. I need to see him.”

Oh, Race thought, swallowing as the blood drained from his face, That’s what this is about. 

Albert’s littlest brother, Elijah, had died in a car crash Albert’s junior year of college. It had shattered him, leaving him to retreat into the shell of the person he once was. It was a common known fact that Albert had practically raised his brothers, Thomas and Elijah, after his mother’s passing and father’s descent to abuse. He held himself responsible for them, and when he lost Elijah, he blamed himself. It took him years to pull himself out of the depths of grief that followed Elijah’s death, and it still hadn’t stopped affecting him from time to time. As terrified as Race was for Andrew’s wellbeing, he couldn’t fathom what Albert must be feeling right now.

“Albert, I need you to look at me, okay? Really look at me, try to see me,” He squeezed on Albert’s wrists, prompting him to look up. 

Brown, panicked eyes met blue ones and Race let out an internal sigh of relief, “Andrew is going to be okay. We need to wait this out for him, but he’s alive right now and he’s still gonna be alive when all of this is over, okay?”

 

Albert didn’t look convinced and he let his gaze wander again, but Race reached out to tap his chin, “Okay?” he tried again.

Albert searched his eyes for a moment before nodding, “Okay,” he breathed.

Race held up Albert’s wrist and pressed a soft kiss to his palm before gently pulling him over to where Emelia was seated with the nurse. It appeared as if she’d worn herself out from crying and was now dozing against the armrest, a half full cup of water on the seat next to her.

Race thanked the nurse genuinely before taking her place next to Emelia and rubbing a hand up and down his daughter’s back. She perked up only slightly to lean into Race’s touch, but didn’t wake up completely. Albert had his head in his hands again and Race shot a quick text to Spot, asking him to come get Emelia, so that she wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath of Andrew’s surgery. 

A half hour later, Spot showed up, a concerned looking Elmer in tow. Albert had gone to the bathroom to cool off, leaving Race alone with the still sleeping Emelia. After answering a few concerned questions from Spot and Elmer and thanking them profusely for coming, they were on their way, Emelia tucked safely into Spot’s arms. Albert came back several minutes later, looking spent.

He sat heavily back into his chair and leaned his head against the back, resting his eyes while they waited. Another nurse came to get them ten minutes later, letting them know that the operation was done and they could see Andrew now. Albert was alert again and Race could tell he was silently working himself up, so he reached down to tightly grasp his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

“It’s alright, just breathe,” He whispered.

Albert nodded, sucking in a deep breath before following the nurse into the room where Andrew was set up. He was still out, but he looked better with his leg in a cast and bandages secured around his head. Albert sank into the chair next to his bed, holding his son’s hand tightly. He was shaking again and Race placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, massaging the area to ground him.

A doctor came in after a moment and cleared his throat to get their attention, “Your son is going to be okay. We operated on his leg and while it is going to be immobile for a while, there is no permanent damage that we can detect, although he is going to be in physical therapy and a cast for a while. As far as brain injuries go, we still need to send in a referral for a CT scan, but from what we could test, his response times are normal. You’re free to take him home tonight, but we sent in a referral to a specialist for a follow up appointment on his leg, so make sure to schedule that as soon as possible. You’ve got a very lucky boy, here. Truly lucky.”

XXX

Albert and Race lay in bed, willing sleep to come, but neither man could manage it that night. Not after everything they had gone through that day. They hadn’t spoken a word for at least an hour, both of them lost in separate, yet troubled thoughts. Albert’s head was resting on Race’s chest and Race was running a comforting hand through his hair, smoothing it out ever so often with a kiss.

“I don’t know what I would have done,” Race looked down at his husband when he spoke, startling slightly, “If I had lost Andrew, too. I don’t know how I woulda lived with myself.”

Race took his hand from Albert’s hair, wrapping it around his torso and clasping his other hand to create a warm embrace, “But we’re okay. All of us.”

“I know,” Albert said, his voice wavering, “But he looked so much like-” he cut himself off, a slow sob ripping from his throat.

Race froze for a moment before shifting Albert farther up on his chest, letting him cry. Minutes passed with nothing but the sound of Albert’s agonizing gasps. Race rubbed his arm, murmuring reassurances and reminding him of his presence until the cries slowed to a stop.

“I’m sorry,” Albert muttered, “I don’t know-”

“Hey,” Race interrupted, “You don’t need to apologize. What happened today was beyond scary and I can’t imagine what it must have felt like for you, but everyone’s okay. Everyone’s still here. I promise you, it’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah,” Albert said, pausing a moment to breathe, “We’re okay, right?”

“Yes, we are.”


End file.
